Nurse Connie
by LTP-girl
Summary: Mike gets sick with the flu. The rest is self explanatory.


Disclaimer: I do not own _Law & Order_ and its characters. Courtney is mine.

Nurse Connie

LTP-girl

Jack took a seat behind his desk, sighing with exasperation. "Have the detectives been able to locate a murder weapon?" he asked his two right-hand ADAs standing across from him.

Connie and Mike both took their seats opposite Jack's desk.

"No, not as yet, we're still in the process of obtaining a search warrant for the Warrens' house," Connie replied. "But Lupo and Bernard found a beach-towel saturated in blood in the trunk of Samuel Warren's car, which has been sent off for testing. We should receive the results by this afternoon."

Jack swivelled in his leather chair. "What about your witness list? Have you got that sorted yet?"

"We will be talking to people in neighbouring houses later this afternoon," she answered. "The murder took place on a Saturday in the Warrens' backyard, so it is very possible that neighbours heard the murder take place."

Jack glanced over at Mike, surprised that he had not spoken a word since he and Connie had entered his office five minutes earlier, and who was sitting quietly in his chair rubbing his temples with his head slightly drooped."What are your thoughts on this, Mike?" Jack enquired, annoyed that hadn't been paying attention.

Mike looked up at him bewildered, and Jack couldn't help but notice the fogginess in his glance. "What? Oh..."

Jack noted the perspiration running down Mike's brow, and the glassiness in his stare. "Everything alright, Mike?" He asked with concern. _What is with this kid today?_

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied, crossing his legs and straightening himself in composure. "I think we should get Marcus Crowe's nephew on the stand. I mean, come on, the kid's a psychopath." He chuckled to himself.

Mike and Connie exchanged bemused glances.

"Mike, we weren't discussing People vs. Crowe. We were discussing the Warren case." He shook his head with slight disappointment, doubtful that Mike had been listening at all.

"Oh." Mike shifted in his seat with embarrassment. "I'm sorry..."

Connie looked up at Jack. "Mike has the flu," she explained simply. She turned to face Mike. "Are you sure you're alright? Because if you're sick, you really should be at home resting."

Jack nodded in agreement. "Connie's right. If you're not feeling well, you should be in bed. What's more, by being here you run the risk of getting everyone else in the office sick, and we can't afford that."

Mike wiped his running nose with a tissue. "No I'm fine, really," he answered, his sinuses sounding blocked.

Connie tilted her head to the side, a look of worry in her eyes, her gentle gaze still fixed on Mike. "You seem tired, Mike. Maybe Deb could go to the bodega up the street and fetch you some orange juice," she suggested. "That always picks me up when I'm sick."

"No, I told you I'm fine," Mike retorted indignantly, beginning to cough loudly into a tissue. "I've got all the medicine I need right here." He pulled out half a bottle of Red Label from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He unscrewed the lid, and took a long swig.

Both Jack and Connie exchanged apprehensive glances once again. It was now quite evident to them that not only was Mike suffering from a case of the flu, but he was also drunk!

Jack stood from his chair, his face rearing in disgust. "Go home, Mike! You've just proven to us that you are in no fit condition to work today. Get some rest, eat chicken soup, and see how you feel in the morning."

Mike stood from his chair, his balance lightly swaying. "I told you I'm fine," he retorted stubbornly. He slid the bottle of scotch back into his jacket pocket, and made his way towards the door. "I'm going to the bathroom to clean up," he informed them.

Mike began to make his way down the corridor to the men's room, when all of a sudden he began to feel dizzy. He stopped to recollect himself, and sidled up next to the wall. He felt a sharp twinge in his stomach, and a wave of nausea over came him, and the room started to spin. _Oh god, maybe I should have stayed home after all. _

His mouth dropped in despair in face of Courtney, a young intern employed at the DAs office, as she sashayed her way up the broad corridor. He averted his eyes away from her at the realisation that she was heading his way. Courtney was certainly well known by male ADAs for her chosen office attire that often left very little to the imagination, with her short pencil skirts, sky high heels, and tight blouses with buttons down to there. But there seemed to be only one ADA she had eye on. And he certainly was in no mood for her flirty chitchat today. He hoped she hadn't seen him. _Keep walking, and she just might not notice, _he told himself.

"Hey, Mr Cutter," she greeted perkily with a friendly smile.

_Damn it, she's seen me! _He bit his tongue as he looked up at her, trying very hard not to tell her to get out of his way. "Morning, Courtney," he replied as warmly as he could muster, forcing a smile.

Her eyes became fixed on the striped maroon tie he was wearing. "I like that tie you're wearing," she commented, sliding the silky material through her fingers, her alluring green eyes meeting his dumbfounded glance. There was certainly no shortage of one syllable words to describe her, that's for sure.

He cleared his throat. "Thank you," he replied, feeling his cheeks flush. _Although I'm sure you'd much prefer it if I was tying you to my bedpost with it._

"That's a nasty cough you've got there, Mr Cutter," she commented, her expression concerned.

"No, it's fine, really Courtney," he replied, continuing to cough into his tissue. "Just a bit of the flu."

"I have this chest-rub at home you can use. I've found it has always worked as an effective decongestant," she said. "I can bring it along this afternoon, and rub it on you if you like."

_That'd be right. Any excuse to get my shirt off. _"Ah, no thanks Courtney, I don't think that's a good idea," he answered, his discomfort showing.

Nausea washed over him once again, and he realised that if he didn't get to the bathroom soon, there would be a mess to clean up. The problem was that once Courtney started talking, she didn't stop, and it was then very difficult to get a word in edgeways.

She ranted on about how one of her friends had contracted some sort of exotic flu, and nearly died because of it. Any excuse to keep Mike there and make him talk to her.

"You know Courtney," he began, clutching his stomach, pain beginning to sear through him. "I, um, I'm very busy. I need to get to the bathroom... I..." He felt his mouth begin to salivate, and knew what was about to come. There was no way he would make it to the men's room on time now. _Oh no, here it comes! _There was no stopping it, and in one heave, he vomited all over the linoleum floor, as well as Courtney's shoes.

"_Auuughh, my shoes!"_ Courtney cried.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised sincerely, wiping his mouth with his tissue, very embarrassed by the puddle of stomach contents he regurgitated onto the floor. The room continued to spin, and he passed out beside the mess with a thud.

"_The bastard puked on my shoes!"_ Courtney continued to shriek, kicking traces of vomit off each of her shoes. She stamped her foot before walking away angrily, fleeing the scene. "Someone will pay for this."

Mike's paralegal, Debby, rushed to his aid, having witnessed what had happened. "Oh my God, Mr Cutter, are you alright?" She knelt beside him laden with a bottle of water, and caressed his cheek with the back of her hand, encouraging him to regain consciousness. _Oh no, he's burning up._ She glanced up at other ADAs, who had now surrounded them, startled by all the commotion. "Would someone go tell Ms Rubirosa and Mr McCoy what's happened."

"I'll go," Collin Wheeler offered.

Collin made his way towards Jack's office, and knocked on the panelling before entering. "Hey guys, Mike's just passed out in the hallway," he informed Connie and Jack casually. "Deb's dealing with him at the moment."

Connie and Jack jumped out of their seats, and followed Collin down the corridor.

Connie's eyes widened in horror, as she watched Debby help Mike sit up slowly, handing him the bottle of water she had in her hand. "Oh my goodness, Mike," she rushed towards him. She helped him stand up, and became worried by the perspiration running down his forehead. "You should be in bed. Come on, I'll take you home."

Connie guided Mike into his office, and retrieved his scarf and coat, and helped him put them on.

"Connie, I can do it myself," he protested, taking them from her, and putting them on. "I'm not an invalid."

"You're not very well either," she replied smartly, handing him his briefcase. "I'll take you to your apartment, and make you some soup. It'll be a lot better for you than that scotch you've been drinking."

"But what about the Warren case?"

"That can wait," she replied, annoyed by Mike's petulance. "Now listen Mr Cutter, you will go home, get some rest. I will make you some soup, and you're going to eat it. Don't argue with me."

Mike sighed, feeling defeated.

She made her way towards the doorway. "Now come on, let's go."

**What do you think? Feel free to comment:-) **


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